


Destiny 2: Incursion: Prelude in Crystal

by Silver_Siren



Series: Destiny 2: A Realm Beyond [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Games), Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/F, F/M, If you find them congrats, Obscure references can be found, mute character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:48:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22063540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver_Siren/pseuds/Silver_Siren
Summary: A female Exo, experimented on and left traumatized by an entity she says is named "Omega". A blind female human, relying on her Light and other heightened senses to "see" the world around her. A Fallen female runt, furious as a blaze and unyielding as the earth. A prideful Awoken swordswoman, infused with the power of a mysterious entity known only as "Shinryu". Yet another human, this time a male, with a taste for destruction and charging in recklessly. And, the veteran mentor, who didn't ask for any of this shit, and has to try to teach them how to be normal, for the Traveler's sake.... Traveler help him.Fate will bring them together. They will become Fireteam Crystallis.
Relationships: Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Series: Destiny 2: A Realm Beyond [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1588021
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	1. Unknown

_ BANG!  _

A single gunshot pierced the silence of the clear, starlit night. Mere seconds later, if one was close enough, the sound of a wild deer dying and falling on its side could be heard. And then, a series of rustles and swishes as a hooded, cloaked figure appeared out of some nearby thick brush, brandishing a hunter's knife. Not much else could be seen of her, save for metal that was covered in caked-on mud and… well, she wasn't sure what else. 

With skill and finesse, she dissected the fresh kill for all it was worth. She then brought forth three different large, crude excuses for satchels, and opened them. She placed the meat itself in one of the satchels.

_ "How long are you planning on doing this, Fang? There are other people out here… people who could help you…" _

After loading the meat in the satchel, Fang turned and looked over to her floating companion. Shell an ethereal, starry black, spaces a brilliant white, and center the only normal thing for a Ghost-that trademark electric blue. The one exposed eye, a faintly-glowing electric blue, focused on the Ghost. Said Ghost sighed heavily.

_ "I know, I know. You're scared of what they'd do if they saw what…  _ **_that night_ ** _ did to you. And you're still distraught over the loss of your friends. And you're scared that no one would ever be able to understand you because you sign or rely on me to speak your thoughts."  _ The Ghost began.  _ "But you're an Exo, Fang! You can't keep this up forever! Please, at least try! For me!"  _ She finished, pleading. Fang hummed sadly, shutters half-closing in a mimicry of outward expression of her inner contemplations. She didn't shake her head in an indication of either yes or no-a step in the right direction, as far as her Ghost was concerned. If the companion was capable of smiling, she would have.

In silence, Fang placed the fresh hide in another bag, and what organs she felt were worth keeping, she drained out, cleaned in a nearby small inlet, and put in the remaining bag. What she didn't feel like salvaging, she pelted a lone nearby Fallen with until it collapsed, whether from the repeated blunt force trauma or from the  _ smells  _ unleashed, she wasn't certain. And, quite frankly, she didn't care. 

Satisfied, she retreated back into the wilderness.

* * *

"Ah,  _ finally…  _ I got a decent look at you, little huntress… well, as decent as could be managed. You certainly  _ are  _ a master of the disappearing act, aren't you?"

_ "What are you talking about, Devrim?"  _

The scout chuckled.

"Oh, please  _ do  _ forgive me, Ikora… it would appear I left my communicator on!" He teased.

_ "Don't try that with me. I know you well enough to know you did that on purpose."  _ The Warlock scolded. Devrim chuckled again.

"You're no fun, Ikora! Can't a man simply want to idly chat with a fine lady such as yourself?" He mock-asked.

_ "Devrim…"  _ Ikora trailed. He sighed heavily.

"Alright, alright, I get it. You're right, as always… I do have something…  _ interesting  _ to share." He admitted.

_ "Define  _ **_interesting._ ** _ "  _ Ikora said.

"Over the past two to three weeks, I've noticed a strange cloaked figure stalking about the wilderness, living off the land. The figure didn't seem like much at first, but my intuition told me to keep watching anyways… and I'm rather glad I did." 

_ "Cloaked figure living off the land? It's not a Fallen or something like that, is it?"  _ Ikora questioned.

"Doubt it, due to seemingly only having two arms and  _ not  _ actively pursuing anything other than wild game… and not to mention a rather amusing habit of  _ pelting  _ Fallen with the full bladders or anything else they decide isn't worth keeping for themselves from whatever they kill. Can't imagine that smells good…" He answered.

_ "You wouldn't have left a channel open to me to tell me about a wanderer that throws undesirable wild animal organs at Fallen."  _ Ikora pointed out.

"Well, after watching them tonight… I do have every reason to believe they're likely a fledgling Guardian!" He explained.

_ "A fledgling Guardian?! On their own?! Where are they?!"  _ The Vanguard demanded.

"They generally tend to hunt in a seven-mile area of very, very, very thick forest. I can mark out the area on a map, but they know how to make smokeless fires, I assume, as I've never seen any telltale pillars…" He answered calmly. 

_ "I'll come down. This mystery Guardian sounds like someone who's easily startled."  _ She decided. 

"I'll make some tea for you, if it pleases you." He offered. Ikora chuckled.

_ “I’ll look forward to it… after I find our elusive target.”  _ She told him. Devrim sighed and shrugged. 

“Good luck on that second one… she’s the type to be able to disappear in the blink of an eye.”

The communication ended, and Devrim stood up from his perch. He went over to his kettle, and turned it on. He then sighed dejectedly.

“What have you been through, Guardian, that you’re so afraid to be around your fellow man? Must’ve been something else… or perhaps multiple somethings.” He wondered, before sifting through his assortment of teas.

“If there’s anyone who can help, it’s certainly Ikora…” He trailed as he found what he was looking for.

* * *

_ Thick  _ was the understatement of the  _ century,  _ as far as Ikora was now concerned. She couldn’t walk two feet on the ground without crunching  _ something  _ under her boots, and the canopy was so thick that it was impossible to see without some other light source… 

Or the eyes of an Exo. 

An Exo’s eyes were backlit, and could see very well in such thick darkness. So long as the internal workings were kept in decent order, an Exo could very much survive out here on their own. They didn’t need to eat or drink-they really only engaged in such actions to feel human. And, sometimes, after a reset (especially if the number was adding up), an Exo could be skittish for a little while, especially if there was no one around to help. 

According to what Devrim had told her, he’d heard gunshots every so often. That meant that this skittish, jumpy fledgling Guardian was undoubtedly armed, and knew damn well how to fire. Probably had eagle eyes as well, so to speak. 

Then, she saw it. A faint but warm, orange-yellow light, contained within an area. The light of a  _ campfire.  _

A campfire undoubtedly started by the elusive Guardian to keep warm, and thus feel a bit more human. 

She had to be careful. Taking a deep breath, she willed her Light over her whole being, concealing herself as best she could. She knew she could not make herself entirely invisible, but hopefully, in combination with perfect silence and the sheer darkness of the forest, she could avoid detection for long enough to get close. 

* * *

It was going smoothly. She was getting closer and closer, and now, she could get a decent look at the elusive Guardian. Decent being the key word, as a large, oversized ebony black cloak shielded most features.

The recluse appeared to be a female Exo, by the sounds of her humming and the tinges of electric silvery-blue that could be vaguely seen peeking out from the hooded cloak she wore. Ikora could see her right hand, caked in dried mud, with only hints of metallic black… something and off-silver decorative lines visible in the few spots that weren't encased by mud. The cloak was deliberately pulled further over her left side, and the Warlock realized that almost the entire left side of her face was covered by thicker black fabric, though the faintest starry white-blue light could be seen where her left eye should be. Clearly, the fabric over the eye had worn more than the fabric around the rest of the area. 

She was clutching something in her lap. The slightest leaning forward, and Ikora realized what it was-her Ghost, talking to her, undoubtedly. Probably giving her comfort. And even though the Exo wasn't obviously armed, Ikora knew better than to believe that she truly wasn't. Her Ghost likely transmatted her choice weapon (or weapons, the Warlock didn't know for sure) when she needed them. Lightening the burden. It made sense.

The campsite itself was clearly assembled from scratch. A circle of stones in varying shapes and sizes surrounded a haphazardly dug shallow pit in the ground. Dried animal droppings were being used as the fuel source-hence the lack of smoke-but there was quite a variety. A crude spit, made from what Ikora could only assume were broken pieces of Fallen weapons and armor (and maybe even pikes), with several rough cuts of game staked on it, was being closely tended. The meat appeared to be somewhat raw at the moment. A tent whose walls were made of patched-together variety animal skins and more of the same broken pieces of Fallen equipment was the only shelter. A series of three improvised satchels were tied to a nearby tree, and on a lower branch of that same tree, more animal skins were drying. 

How long had she been alone out here? What happened to make her this way? It was probably one heartbreaking, tragic story-

**_SNAP!_ **

A small branch suddenly gave way, snapping loudly-

_ "Fang, we have company!"  _

The Exo, who Ikora could only assume was named Fang, suddenly jolted up, and the Ghost was quick to transmat arguably one of  _ the  _ most elaborate rifles Ikora had ever seen. Mostly metallic jet black, with heavy stylization and a strange starry blue sphere in the middle-back of the main body. She turned sharply, and the clearly visible electric blue eye was looking around in every direction. Fang was in paranoid overdrive. 

_ "Come out! We know you're there!"  _ The Ghost insisted. Ikora bit her lip. She hoped she could reason with this poor thing-

A screeching chorus of Fallen could be heard in the opposite direction. Fang turned sharply again, this time to face them, and  _ wailed.  _ Ikora had to shield her ears, and when she looked up, she noticed the Fallen were doubly affected-down on their knees, all four limbs clutching at their heads. A shriek with  _ power.  _

She then threw a silvery grenade that exploded into electric blue light into the crowd, taking out quite a few of the Fallen. The Exo then began to fire wildly into the crowd that was approaching, but soon enough had to reload, but the Fallen were getting too close for comfort-

With a well-timed jump, Ikora relaxed her concealment, and threw a sphere of Void Light into the crowd. It took down the ones getting too close, thus allowing the skittish Exo to reload.

"Don't worry! I'm here to help!" Ikora assured. Fang looked around nervously for a bit, before returning to unleashing all manner of strange, solid white-blue bullets upon the swarm. However, Ikora barely glanced away to deal with a Fallen behind her, and then, when she looked back amongst the dead Fallen, she noticed that Fang was  _ gone.  _

She closed her eyes, and heightened her Insight until she detected the easily-startled Exo… and already, she was unnerved. Large amounts of a strange, unknown energy conflicted with both Light and some sort of Darkness. She’d have to have Eris take a closer look later, but for now, she had to give chase.

Relaxing her Insight, Ikora scaled the trees until she could breach the canopy… and blinked a few times. 

Somehow, Fang was creating strange, electric white-blue rectangular prisms in the air. It was not the efforts of her Ghost, as there was no sign of it near any generated platform. The platforms would disappear not long after she moved from one to another. 

This was going to be a challenge, to say the least. 

She moved from treetop to treetop as she gave chase, and called forth her Ghost. A channel was opened to both Hawthorne and Devrim.

“Listen to me, both of you! I located the fledging you had been watching, Devrim, but she managed to detect my presence and is on the run! I don’t know what the full extent of her capabilities are, and I don’t know where she’s going! Keep an eye out for her, and Hawthorne, be prepared to evacuate the Farm if she gets too close!” She ordered. 

_ “I sincerely doubt the reclusive Exo is going to intentionally approach the Farm… but still, I will help you keep an eye on our little escape artist.”  _ Devrim answered.

_ “If she gets too close, we’ll figure it out. Hoping the scout’s right anyways.”  _ Hawthrone acknowledged, before leaving the channel. 

* * *

_ “Well, good news-she seems to be rather determined to avoid any settlement inhabited by more than one human. Bad news, she doesn’t even seem to have any destination. She’s just bound and determined to get away from you, it seems!”  _

“I can’t imagine what she’s been through, to be so distrustful of anyone who isn’t her Ghost… Is there anything coming up in her likely path that will be enough to stop her?” Ikora asked. 

_ “Hmm… not an external thing, but she appears to be slowing on my end. She’s likely on the verge of some form of exhaustion or overheating…" _ Devrim mused.

"I'll take what I can get." 


	2. Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mysterious fledgling, named Fang, attempted to flee, but luck favored Ikora instead. The Warlock takes the skittish Exo back to the Tower with her, and the healing process begins.

True to Devrim's theory, Fang soon enough lost focus, and failed to generate another platform in time. She panicked as she began to fall rapidly, smoke rising from a select few joints. Ikora leapt up and caught her, deftly maneuvering over a select few rocks until they reached terra firma. She then placed the fear-stricken Exo on the ground as gently as possible, ignoring the intense heat that was radiating from the overworked, filthy chassis.

"I've got her, Devrim. Thank you for your help." 

_ "Anytime! I'm just glad she's finally in good hands. Do come by for tea later."  _

"I will."

Ikora closed the channel, and turned back to her quivering charge. The Warlock sat down by her side. The hood had fallen back a bit, allowing Ikora to get a good look at her mostly sapphire blue face. While there was some dust and mud caked onto the majority of the exposed part of her face, strangely, close to the fabric-covered area, there was almost no dirt. Quite the opposite, in fact-the metal near the fabric was actually faintly _shimmering,_ and a strange dark greyish-silver. It was rather extraordinary, Ikora had to admit.

"So, Fang, correct?" 

Fang nodded.

"My name is Ikora. Ikora Rey. What were you doing out there by yourself, if you don't mind me asking?" 

Fang looked around nervously, and then looked to her Ghost.

_ "Umm… you see… the issue is… Fang can't talk normally. The most she can manage with her vocal modulator are some noises, but no words. She knows American Sign Language, and I am linked directly into her mind, so, if she wants me to, I'll speak on her behalf."  _ She explained. Ikora nodded.

"I see. Well, Fang, even if you can't speak normally, I can tell you're quite clever. I know American Sign Language as well, so I'll be able to understand you. Now, can you tell me what you were doing out there?" She asked again. Fang struggled to attempt to move her hands, but the exhaustion from the sustained running and improper venting (no doubt due to the caked-on filth) had clearly taken its toll. She sighed, and looked to her Ghost again.

_ "She's really overheated. She can't move. She can recover, given cooldown time, but as she is right now, she can't really answer any questions. At least, not without my help."  _

"Fair enough. Let's get you somewhere safer, and once you're cooled off, we can talk then." 

Fang nodded weakly, and the Warlock cradled the overheated Exo into her arms. She then looked to the strange-looking Ghost floating close by.

"Ah, I never asked… do you have a name?" 

_ "Bahamut. She gave me the name Bahamut not long after we met. I've treasured it ever since."  _

* * *

"I would expect this behavior from Cayde, but not  _ you,  _ Ikora! What made you decide to run off like that-" 

"Zavala, please. She's already scared senseless by her own  _ shadow.  _ Your yelling will only make matters  _ worse. _ " Ikora interrupted. It was then that he noticed Fang, curling in on the Warlock, shaking. He sighed heavily, and pinched his brow.

"Who even  _ is  _ that? Where did you find her? Why did you bring her here?" He asked in rapid succession, though lowering his volume. 

"Her name is Fang. I found her on her own in the European Dead Zone, scared for reasons I do not yet know to the point where she was actively avoiding any and all human contact. And she is a fledgling Guardian with quite the aim, when not panicking." Ikora answered. Zavala raised an eyebrow.

"A fledgling Guardian, so terrified of  _ something  _ that she became a recluse? How did we not detect her before now?" He questioned.

"According to Devrim, the only times he could ever spot her was when she emerged to take care of whatever she'd hunted. She knows survival very well. Since she never bothered anyone else, there wasn't much reason to watch closely… I only went down because, just today, Devrim saw her Ghost for the first time." She answered.

"If she's that skilled at evasion and survival, she would undoubtedly be an asset to us… very well. She can stay, but under your care." He relented.

"That was the plan." 

* * *

Carefully, Ikora laid the much-cooler Fang down in her tub. She then sat down beside her.

"How do you feel now?" She asked gently. Fang brought her hands up, this time in a much smoother manner, and began to sign. Some chips of dirt fell into the tub as she moved her fingers. 

_ Better. Still hot, but better. _

"Good to hear. Now, can you tell me how many times you've been rebooted?" 

Fang showed all ten fingers, then only three. 

"Ten… three… thirteen?" 

Fang nodded.

"So, Fang-13. It's a pleasure to meet you. Now, do you think you can tell me what you were doing out there?" 

Fang looked down for a moment.

_ Hiding. Hiding from… from Omega.  _

"Omega? Who or what is Omega?"

_ War machine. Not a Warmind. Not anything made by humans. Smart. Powerful.  _

"I see… do you remember what it wanted from you? Why you were hiding from it?"

_ Hurt me… trapped… stuff forced into me… wanted… to know… wanted… wanted… _

Fang began to shake again, and let out a mechanical whimper. Ikora placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. 

"If it's too much, you don't have to continue. You've given me a lot already. Do you mind if I get someone to clean you up?" 

_...Stay? Please? Don't want to be hurt again… _

"I'll be more than happy to." 

* * *

“Damn, you weren’t kidding… she’s a mess. Literally.” 

Fang looked up, and whimpered at the sight of someone she didn’t recognize whatsoever. She then looked to Ikora, confusion and pleading in her eyes.

“You can trust her. Her name is Amanda Holliday. She’s quite skilled, and she knows to be gentle. I’ve spoken with her already.” The Warlock assured. Fang looked over, seeing the… pleasant human smiling at her.

“Hey there, Fang. Ikora told me you’ve been through a lot, and that you needed a good cleanup. I’ll only go as fast as you can handle. If you need to take a break at any point, just let me know, okay?” She further assured. Fang fidgeted just a bit, before finally nodding. Amanda beamed even more.

"Great! Now, let's get all this dirt and mud off your chassis!" She chirped, bringing the cart she had that carried a small variety of Exo cleaning equipment on it with her as she got closer. When she was close enough, she looked over to Bahamut, who was resting on Fang's left shoulder.

"Um, you can transmat her armor off of her, right? However fast or slow you go with that-I'll follow your lead, okay?" Amanda asked. Bahamut beeped a few times, and floated up and over Fang's left arm. She waited a few moments, before finally transmitting away the filthy cloak. A few more minutes later, and she transmatted off the even-filthier left glove… 

* * *

"Aaaand that's the last of it! Great job, Fang!" 

Fang looked down at her newly-cleaned, exposed chassis. She'd been out in the wilderness, on the run, hiding from Omega for so long that she'd long since forgotten what it ever looked like.

There was no mistaking the feminine form of her chassis. It was not overly curvy or impossibly slender, but unmistakably feminine. The front and back were painted a beautiful sapphire blue, and the sides were a silvery-white color. Around the joints were also lines of silvery-white. All of which Amanda had patiently touched up as needed, waiting for Fang's cues that it was okay to continue touching her. Electric blue light shone forth from wherever it could, and now, she was much cooler-a safe, normal operating temperature.

But not everything was part of her original design, Amanda noted. It couldn't have been.

Her left arm was almost entirely a dark silvery-gray color, and instead of electric blue shining forth, an ominous starry whitish-blackish light bled ever-so-slightly from where it could. It was nowhere near as radiant as the electric blue that shone forth from almost the entirety of the rest of her chassis-it was almost as if it had been entirely remade by something else, and was powered by something else as well. There was also a strange circular lens in the palm of her left hand, from which the unnatural light hummed and shone from faintly. 

The radically-different metal continued over the left side of her neck, and came up and over the majority of the left side of her face, cutting a clear diagonal that barely touched along the side of her nose. Her left eye was that same unnatural starry blackish-whitish color, and a strange eye-esque shape that had an electric silvery-blue "iris" and electric white "sclera" rested in the center of her forehead. And the armor… Traveler above, neither Ikora nor Amanda had never seen anything so  _ beautiful  _ and yet so  _ alien.  _

Black, wrist-length, elaborate gloves, made of a strange fabric somewhere between vinyl and leather in texture, and yet, as resilient as proper armor. Elaborate, dark silver trim around the top, and dark silver designs on the back and sides of the gloves. Tipped with dark silver claws, and one black spike, made of an alien metal, jutting out from the back of the hand, eventually tapering to a fine, sharp point just about an inch above the curved top of the fabric.

A long-sleeved top, mostly a very dark grey color. In the center of the torso area, what looked like black “scales” took some space, seemingly attached to the underside of the dark grey. Golden decorative pieces rested just above and in the under-center area of the chest. More elaborate gold decorative pieces trimmed the bottom of the top, the flared bottoms the sleeves, and graced the sides of the sleeves just below the elbow. Just above the elbow, strange dulled electric blue curved sections jutted out, curving back towards the sleeve, but not reconnecting. Upon the back, quite a bit more of the golden decorations, and half a skirt attached at the base of the back. Set more towards the side, but not completely so, attached to other decorations, were a pair of what looked like golden spearheads. To finish it all out, two collars-one meant to rest on her neck, and the other standing straight-trimmed in the same gold that embellished everything else.

Perhaps simplest of the whole set were the long pants, matching the main color of the top, with only the front and back thighs and just under the knees having any degree of elaborate decoration-a darker, off brown-gold in color, with the front and back thighs nearly mirroring each other. Much simpler trim of the same color framed the bottoms, and a lighter gold belt was attached to the top of the pants. Barely visible was some extra of the mystery fabric on the hips, darker in color than the rest of the pants, almost like stylized armor plates, but attached fully to the pants. 

Knee-high boots, the same shade of black as the gloves, with a top that was at its lowest on the inside edge, and its highest on the outer edge, curving gradually between the two extremes. Two dark silver bands wrapped around the top, and two more extended from the trim, forming separate sections in the front. Another set of bands wrapped around near the toe, making it appear separate as well, and the same held true for the heel. In the back of the top of the boots was yet another “section”, and littered all over the boots were elaborate golden decorative plates. 

And, last but not least, was the actual hood she wore-not part of the ruined, unsalvageable hooded cloak that was not even remotely of the same construction as the rest of her armor, but instead, obviously a part of the actual armor. A dark grey-black, with flaps on either side that were distinct from the part that draped over the back of her head. Dark silver tassels hung from the bottoms of the sides and the bottom of the back. What at least looked more like proper dark silver metal rested like a sort of headband over the crown area, and something similar wrapped around the sides of the hood, going into two silver chains that then came together in the back and made a simple yet elegant decoration. Attached to the underside of the hood was an ebony black patch-the patch Ikora remembered covering the left side of the face. Interestingly enough, a beautiful gold chain was anchored to the center front of the patch, and wrapped around to anchor on the opposing side.

Truly, such beautiful armor, especially once properly cleaned. Not like anything they’d ever seen…

It then all clicked for both Amanda and Ikora. 

Omega must have made the modifications to her chassis. Omega must have also been the one to make and force this armor on her. Omega must have also made her weapon (at least, the one Ikora saw her use). 

Omega must have also been the one to strip her of her voice.


	3. Comforts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A freshly-cleaned chassis, and Fang's already feeling much better. She makes another friend in the form of a certain mischievous but golden-hearted Hunter...

A towel was soon offered to Fang, and she was swift to dry herself off. The moment she was dry enough, Bahamut then transmatted her armor back onto her, which seemed to soothe her just a bit. She then grabbed the nearest dry towel, and wrapped it around herself, much like the cloak she’d been wearing previously. Ikora sighed sadly, and then, in tandem, the two human women helped Fang make her way out of the tub. 

Once out and on her feet, before either woman could blink, Fang _bolted_ out of the bathroom. They both gave chase, but found Fang hadn’t gone far-she’d just darted into the closet and buried herself in whatever clothing she could find. She was whimpering, and curled in on herself. 

Clearly, the process of relocation and cleaning had taken its toll on her fragile psyche. Enough was enough-she’d made great strides already, and deserved a break, Ikora decided. Amanda, thankfully, seemed to believe at least something similar, and left the room without a word. The Warlock sat down on her bed, giving Fang space, and thinking.

Perhaps some comforts from the camp would help Fang settle in a bit quicker. 

* * *

Thankfully, the camp had not been disturbed since the events from earlier in the day. A small blessing, and one that Ikora was grateful for. She put out the fire above all else, and then took the now-burnt meat, and tossed it aside. Let some scavenger animal eat it, she decided. 

She turned her attention to the tent, and crawled inside.

It was about what she expected-hides tied together and tied to the improvised frame with animal sinew. Well made, all things considered… perhaps taking the improvised tent back with her would do some good-

She felt her leg brush against something rather… lumpy. She looked over, and noticed a much smaller satchel, with animal sinew ties keeping it closed, hidden in a small hole near the edge of the tent. Ikora pulled out the satchel, and opened it, revealing…

A small assortment of very rough gems? A wide variety, not all of which could be easily discerned due to their rough nature… but Ikora could readily recognize some diamonds, garnets, and amber stones. 

_Fang must’ve found these while she was out here… but what was she doing with them?_ The Warlock wondered. Whatever it was, it was significant enough to the Exo to make her want to keep them decently well-hidden. Ikora pocketed the small satchel, and then began working to carefully take down the tent. 

* * *

As the Warlock Vanguard expected, Fang was still curled up in the clothing pile fortress she’d made for herself, but, blessedly, she’d relaxed enough (or maybe just exhausted herself enough, but the faint humming of Bahamut lended more credit to the former than the latter) to enter sleep mode. It made her smile softly. Bahamut was quick to notice the Vanguard’s presence, and stopped humming upon the realization. Not long after Bahamut ceased humming, Fang stirred, and looked up.

“I brought some things from your little campsite. Thought maybe some familiar things might help you settle in a bit better.”

The Exo shifted to get a better look, and was awestruck upon seeing Ikora bring forth the disassembled tent bits. They were promptly placed on the floor, with great care. 

Ikora barely managed to pull the satchel of gems from her pocket before Fang suddenly darted out from the clothing pile and snatched it right out of her hands. She brought it close to her chest, and let out hums of joy. She then placed it carefully down in the clothing pile, covered it, and then darted back to Ikora, catching the Warlock in a clingy hug.

A silent expression of _immense_ gratitude. A welcome change from the previous skittish behavior.

But the moment wouldn’t last forever. After a precious few moments, Fang suddenly let go, and began quickly working to rebuild the tent on the floor. It was honestly a very impressive feat-just how _fast_ she was able to do it. She then took the satchel of gems out from the clothing pile, and darted into the tent with them. Ikora could hear some shifting and humming, before Fang emerged yet again. She then took some of the clothing pile into the tent with her, and then, more shifting and humming, but this time, she didn’t emerge after the noises stopped. Bahamut then flew inside the tent, and Ikora began to hear what she could only assume was a pre-Golden Age tune, meant to soothe.

She shrugged. It looked like she was going clothes shopping, whether she liked it or not. 

* * *

“Hey, am I seeing shit, or is none other than _Ikora Rey herself_ going shopping for _clothes_ of all things? Don’t you have like a whole _stash_ of clothes?” 

Ikora chuckled.

“Let’s just say they’re… being used for an _unusual_ purpose at the moment, Cayde.” She answered. Cayde raised a mechanical eyebrow.

“Uhh… what do you mean by… _unusual?_ ” The Hunter asked. Ikora leveled a proper glare at him.

“Nothing like what _you’re_ thinking, I’m sure. They’re being used as bedding by a skittish Guardian that’s living in my room at the moment. She’s more comfortable in the tent she built from broken pieces of Fallen weapons and dried animal hides in the EDZ than anything else.” She answered. Cayde swallowed awkwardly.

“Ohh…. yeah, that wasn’t my first thought. Or my second. Or even my tenth. And what do you mean by _skittish Guardian?_ Isn’t that kinda… contradiction?” He asked.

“A fledgling who was kidnapped by an entity known as Omega, and forcefully experimented on. Whatever this Omega did to her… it has utterly _shattered_ her psyche. And, on top of it all… somehow, Omega stripped her of her voice. She either signs, or her Ghost speaks on her behalf. They're very, very close." Ikora answered. Cayde grimaced.

"Damn… sounds like this Omega thing doesn't screw around. You think she'll come around?" He asked.

"Given time and plenty of support, I would think so." 

Ikora hummed, and then turned to face Cayde proper. 

"Actually, Cayde, you might be able to lend a hand." She told him. Cayde crossed his arms, and leaned back against a nearby pillar, propping himself up with one of his feet.

"Oh? How so?" He questioned.

"She's an Exo. Rebooted thirteen times. She might find some comfort in seeing a fellow Exo Guardian." She suggested. Cayde nodded in agreement.

"Fine by me. Anything else I need to know?" 

"Behave yourself. Keep it simple, calm, and quiet. Don't rush her. She startles very easily, and I'd rather _not_ have to explain why my walls were suddenly ridden with marks of some sort of Light and bullet holes. Not to mention I don't know what Omega's… _modifications_ to her are, and thus, I don't know what exactly she's capable of."

"Low-key, take it slow, let her see Sundance. Got it." 

"I'll contact you when she's ready. It may be a few hours, a few days, or maybe even a few weeks."

"Hey, she can take as much time as she needs. I'm not the kind of jackass who would get impatient with someone who's had their mind fucked in the ass." 

Ikora sighed heavily.

"Also, mind your tongue. I don't know what this Omega said to her while it was torturing her. And she can't speak normally, but that doesn't mean she can't understand you."

"Will do. See you around." 

Cayde turned, and left. Ikora resumed her shopping, also looking for some options for poor Fang. 

* * *

When she returned to her room, Ikora noticed that Fang was still hiding away in her tent. She could hear more humming, but also the occasional clanging or clinking sound. Something to do with the satchel of rough gems, undoubtedly. She closed the door behind her, allowing the click to announce her presence. Fang peeked her head out from within the tent, and, upon realizing it was the one other person besides Bahamut that she could bring herself to properly trust, she emerged all the way. 

"You seem to be settling in just fine. I went ahead and got some clothes for you-figured you might want something else besides your armor as an option. Do you want to look at them?" The Warlock suggested. Fang hesitated as she thought, before rising to a full stand, and slowly making her way over. With a smile, Ikora set down the bag, and pulled three sets of clothes out-she did _not_ want to overwhelm Fang with too many choices at once. 

Cautiously, as if she wasn't sure they were real, she reached out and gingerly touched one of the shirts-a long-sleeved, smooth, pale green one that had an abstract drawing of a barn owl on the front. She traced the mostly-white owl over and over, as if desperately committing it to memory. 

Even the pants, which were naught more than simplistic, dark blue long pants, were being adored. Cherished. With every touch, there was reverence. The pair of gloves laid out with it, similar in coloration, but elbow-length, were the first things she picked up and actually _held._

If Exos could actually cry, Ikora was sure that Fang would be absolutely _sobbing_ in joyous disbelief. And that was to say nothing of the knee-high, navy blue flat boots that the Exo had also just now noticed.

* * *

When the day came for Cayde to come and visit, Fang had decided to wear the owl shirt with the pants first laid out with it. Those dark blue gloves and navy blue boots were also being worn. Fang found comfort in the certainty of the clothes. She had outfits that, with Ikora's help, she had pieced together-enough to wear for two weeks, which allowed for one week's worth to be washed while the other was being worn. It was ritualistic, but it worked.

Fang was now pacing. She had been anticipating Cayde for approximately three days now (since that was when she'd been told he would be coming over), and, as of five minutes ago, he was officially _late-_

_"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I may or may not have roped Shaxx into another bet, which by the way, I won-"_

_"Cayde."_

_"Right, right… anyways, where's the lady of the hour-"_

Cayde came around the corner (or at least, Fang _assumed_ it was Cayde), turned his head, stopped, stared, and smiled. He offered a simple wave, and propped himself up against the wall, using a single leg to brace against it. Fang simply stood there, behind the bed.

"So, you must be Fang. I'm Cayde. Nice to meet you!" He greeted. She looked to Ikora, who gave a simple nod. Fang raised her hands, and began to move them.

_You… are like me? An Exo?_

However, the following gesture-using both hands at opposite sides to draw a large circle until one was above the other, before proceeding to draw a waved line through the center, and then put one finger on each side of the line, as if drawing dots-was a but perplexing. She then went right back to it.

_…mentioned you. Says you are her friend. Says you are a Guardian, like her. You don't fight the same._

Then, it clicked in Cayde's head.

"That big circle thing you just drew-was that meant to mean 'Ikora'?" The Exo asked. Said Warlock looked over to her Hunter companion.

"Since when do you know any sign language at all?" She questioned.

"Hey, figured I'd make it as easy as possible on the poor girl. I'm not perfect at it, but I can at least get a general idea of what she's saying." Cayde answered. Both women smiled.

"Thank you, Cayde. I really mean it." Ikora said. Fang made a light, chirpy noise, which Cayde could only assume meant she was also thankful. 

"It's nothing, really. The least a guy could do. Anyways, about the circle…" 

_Yes. I made it up. Too much?_

"No, it's fine. I think it's actually perfect." 

Again, Fang made that chirping noise. It brought a smile to Cayde's face.

"So, Ikora tells me you're a Guardian too." He said calmly. Fang looked down, and tapped her fingers together for a few seconds. She then clasped them together, and turned them, revealing Bahamut, resting in her hands. The Ghost then floated up to her shoulder, and rested on it.

_Sort of? I… I have the power, but I… I don't think I deserve it… I'm a coward…_

"Oh, sweetheart, that's not true at all. Honestly, from what Ikora's told me, if I were in your place, I'd be absolutely terrified too. It's okay to be afraid. Sometimes, staying hidden and waiting for help is the best thing to do. You'll never be alone-if all else fails, you've got your friend." Cayde pointed to Bahamut on her shoulder. "By the way, what's his name? Or hers? I don't know which-"

_Her name is Bahamut._

"Ba-ha-how do you even _say_ that-" 

_"It's pronounced Bahamut!"_ Said Ghost interjected, annoyed. 

_"Oh, come off it, would you? Your name doesn't exactly roll off the tongue!"_ Sundance countered, manifesting and floating over Cayde's shoulder. Bahamut rose up, and made several annoyed beeps.

_"It's not that hard! Just three syllables! Ba-ha-mut!"_ She insisted.

_"That is quite enough! Bahamut, Sundance doesn't know just how much your name means to you. She doesn't know what you and Fang have been through. And Sundance, you can't make assumptions about people you've never met before. I know you're quite used to having a playful, mischievous Guardian who can take as much wisecracking as he gives out, but not everyone is like that. Do both of you understand?"_ Ophiuchus scolded, also manifesting. Both female Ghosts let out huffs, before returning to rest on their respective Guardians' shoulders. 

_"Whatever. I've got more important things to worry about than some other Ghost."_ Bahamut sneered

_"And I've got my own priorities."_ Sundance fired back. 

"Hey, come on, Sundance, be nice! Also, we're not here to fight! Say you're sorry!" Cayde scolded. 

_"But I didn't-"_

"I don't care! You added in and egged Bahamut on!" 

Sundance sighed, curling in on herself a bit.

_"...Sorry for making fun of your name."_ She finally admitted. Fang gave a nudge to Bahamut, and she also sighed. 

_"And I'm sorry for snapping at you like that."_ She also admitted. 

"Alright, and with that, everything's all better!" Cayde said, clapping his hands together. "Now, where were we… oh, right." 

He approached closer, and sat down on the bed. He patted the space next to him, and, after a few moments, Fang sat on the edge, next to him, tense as a bowstring. 

"Come on, you don't have to be so tense! No one here is gonna hurt you. Besides, I got you a little something!" Cayde assured, reaching over to pull something out of a blue bag he'd brought with him. Fang watched intently as he pulled out a decently-sized sketchpad, with a dark blue, leathery cover, a matching elastic band holding it closed, and a decent array of colored pencils held inside a black satchel attached to the backside. Cayde handed his fellow Exo the pad, and she held it gently, running metallic fingers over the cover.

“Amanda kinda gave me the idea. Told me that, throughout history, but especially twenty-first century-on, people who had gone through hell and back were sometimes encouraged to draw to help deal with it. Figured it was worth a shot.” He explained as she continued her gentle touches. When he finished, she looked to him, and if she could cry, he was sure she’d be _bawling._ He flinched a bit.

“...Bad idea?” He asked, only to soon have any doubts short-circuit as she brushed her hand against his, trembling. She then moved further, briefly grabbing his own hand, before suddenly letting go and jerking her hand back to herself. Cayde beamed.

“Enjoy it. Draw whatever you want to. It’s yours.” He told her, before standing up. He then began to leave, before stopping in his tracks, and turning back to Fang.

“See you around the Tower!” He told her, before finally leaving. Fang clutched her gift close to her chest.


	4. Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cayde's gift to Fang has been one of his best ideas ever. And, of course, when Dawning comes, Fang gets the idea to give a gift to a certain... enthusiastic Titan. There's a bump in the road, but the Dawning is still a merry one for everyone involved nonethless.

It turned out that the sketchpad was the greatest idea that anyone could've  _ ever  _ conceived of when it came to helping Fang cope and recover. The Exo had a  _ gift  _ for art. In fact, she actually  _ loved _ to make graphic novels and the like. The images were  _ breathtaking.  _ And oh, how the stories were told. 

It started with simple things. After managing to coax her into coming to her station in the Tower, Ikora noticed Fang watching the inhabitants of the Tower go by. Granted, she stayed as hidden as possible, but she was still there. And what she saw, she turned into little short stories. Tales of Guardians coming near to meditate on past battles, seemingly reliving them, somehow. Recreations of conversations, whether casual or serious. All of it brought to life in full color, in that pre-Golden Age “comic strip” style that was once all the rage (and still somewhat was, among some children). 

Slowly, but surely, Fang was working up the courage to explore the rest of her new home. And as she did, she drew more. Banshee-44 working on guns, selling some of his work to Guardians. His lapses in memory, sometimes leading him to panic for a moment before managing to remember that he’s Banshee- _ 44, not  _ Banshee- _ 41\.  _ Or some other number. She really seemed to draw variations on that, undoubtedly empathizing with not being certain who you were anymore. 

Guardians bringing engrams to the Cryptarch was a subject briefly, but their repeated raging at him after the engrams were deciphered into something they  _ did not want  _ spooked her away from that. There wasn’t much to draw of Zavala-the man almost never moved from his post during the day-and the mere  _ presence  _ of anything to do with the morally-grey-at-best Drifter or the enigmatic Xur all made Fang turn tail and  _ run.  _

And then, she was coaxed into watching a single Control match. 

The idea of Guardians playing with each other, being friends, no matter what, seemed to resonate with her. Like it reminded her of something good. Something  _ besides  _ whatever the hell Omega had done to her. 

And Shaxx. Though he was loud, he was  _ encouraging.  _ Winner and loser alike-he encouraged both sides. He gave tips freely, and was clearly just…  _ happy.  _ It made Fang feel good. It gave her some semblance of courage and hope. 

She began to draw out dramatic stories revolving around whatever she saw in the Crucible like there was no tomorrow. She filled sketchpad after sketchpad, until the next Dawning festival. She then scrounged around until she found a simple cardboard box big enough for what she wanted to do, and then began to cautiously make her way over towards the hangar.

"Hey, Fang! What brings you here?" Amanda asked, smiling as she walked over to meet Fang. The mute Exo pointed to a small stash of orange, red, and white paint cans off in the corner. 

"You… want the paint cans? Um, okay, but you mind me asking why?" The blonde questioned. Fang fidgeted a bit, before bringing her hands up to sign.

_ Secret. Can't tell. Not bad. Just… want it to stay secret.  _

"Hmm, sounds like you're making a surprise present for someone for Dawning. Good job, Fang. I'm proud of you. Take what you need." Amanda told her, voice encouraging. Fang smiled softly (or, at least, as best a smile an Exo could manage), and began rounding up the cans of paint she needed.

* * *

It took approximately three days to finish decorating the box. Fang had painstakingly made stencils to ensure everything went according to plan. When she was finished, she stood up, a borrowed apron covered in white and red paint, with flecks of orange littered here and there. 

The box, as a whole, was painted bright crimson red. The corners and edges were trimmed in white, and on the sides, top, and bottom, were painstakingly-made painted replicas of the famed Crucible logo. Off on the top right corner of the top of the box was a small, orange painted label, trimmed in white. Written in black paint was a simple set of words, listing the intended recipient and the heartfelt giver. 

Now, with the box fully dry, Fang carefully loaded in every single sketchpad she’d filled with stories made from the Crucible matches she’d watched over time. Then, once it was filled, she closed it, and tied it closed with shimmering, metallic crimson red ribbon. 

All that remained was to deliver it, and hope he liked it.

* * *

Of course, when she began to approach Shaxx, he was busy with other Guardians. Dispensing rewards, giving his own gifts, receiving the gifts of others… treats, weapons, and armor… 

Suddenly, Fang felt very inadequate. What would the Crucible Master want with a series of dumb drawings by a mute, skittish Guardian he’d never even met? She felt crushed, and turned to leave-

_ “You! Over there!” _

Fang jumped, and turned sharply, modified arm beginning to glow in the brief moment of panic. A gentle nudge from Bahamut anchored her again, and the glow faded as she began to settle back down.

“Do you have something for me?” Shaxx asked, and suddenly, Fang felt very small and scared, because now  _ everyone  _ was focusing on her. She began to shrink down-

“If you do, bring it here! There’s no harm in trying!” The towering man insisted. Fang shifted several times, before pulling the cart she’d borrowed to carry the large box she’d painted herself and filled with the raw forms of short graphic novels forward. Once she was close enough that he could touch it, she stepped aside. He moved closer, and surveyed the box, humming as he did so.

“Did you design this yourself?” 

A simple nod.

“It’s beautiful!” 

The Exo looked up at Shaxx, awestruck. DId he just say…  _ beautiful? _

“I almost don’t want to open it! You’ve clearly put so much effort into it-I’d hate to ruin it!” He further added. She looked around awkwardly-

_ "Um, Lord Shaxx? It's… tied closed with a bow… you could probably just untie it and be fine…"  _ One of the other Guardians pointed out. The Crucible Master let out a hearty laugh.

"True enough!" He acknowledged, before kneeling down and undoing the bow with surprising grace. The lid opened ever-so-slightly, and the Titan opened it carefully the rest of the way. 

"Hm? What do we have here?" He wondered, before picking up one of the sketchpads. He then opened the cover, and began to read…

**_"ABSOLUTELY DELIGHTFUL!"_ **

The roar was louder and more enthusiastic than what he employed for matches, startling Fang enough to cause an unintentional burst of energy from her modified hand to be released, leaving a very small smoldering dent in the floor just beside her. He put down the sketchpad, and strode with confidence over towards her… which only scared her more. She darted away, leaving Shaxx confused.

"But I was only complimenting her amazing work! Why would she run?!" He demanded.

_ "Uhhh, she looked like she was about to piss herself… I think you kinda… scared the shit outta her."  _ One of the other Guardians who had been present suggested. Suddenly, the Crucible Master felt  _ horrible.  _

* * *

When Fang darted to the one woman she felt she could trust above all else, trembling with fear, Ikora abandoned what she was doing and pulled the Exo into a reassuring hug. It took several minutes of soothing words and continual hugging to  _ finally  _ calm the neurotic Exo to a point where she  _ wasn't  _ likely to unleash a second burst of energy. 

"Why don't you go back to the room and draw a bit more? I'll talk to Shaxx." Ikora gently suggested. Fang nodded weakly, before being let go. She darted back to the room, and Ikora facepalmed hard. 

* * *

By the time the Warlock made her way over to Shaxx, he was once again only accompanied by his Quartermaster. He was obviously still quite bewildered, but was quick to take notice of the Vanguard's presence. 

"Shaxx. Do you have  _ any  _ idea what your  _ loudness  _ has done to Fang?!" She seethed, aura burning with barely-contained fury. The Crucible Master blinked beneath his helmet.

“I have worked for  _ weeks  _ to get her to even feel comfortable leaving my room! It took even  _ more  _ time to get her to feel comfortable on her own in the Tower! And now, with your shouting, all of my hard work just might have been undone!" She further seethed, boiling with rage. 

"I.. I didn't mean to… I was just amazed by what she gave me…" He finally managed. It was then that Ikora looked over, relaxing a fair bit. She relaxed further when she actually picked one up, and began to read it.

“It’s not hard to see why, but she’s not just one of your trainees, Shaxx. She’s been through a lot, and, while I don’t know a lot of details, I  _ do  _ know it seriously hurt her psyche.” 

Ikora closed the sketchpad, and placed it back down.

“I know you meant well. And, judging by the one novel I just read, the Crucible has been rather inspiring for her. But you can’t be  _ loud  _ with her like that. She just  _ isn’t  _ ready for it. I imagine she will be, eventually, but not now.” The Warlock finished. Shaxx let out an exasperated sigh.

“I know, I know. I need to apologize to her. Make amends.” He admitted. The Vanguard nodded in agreement. 

“I’ll talk to her. It may take a little bit, but it’s obvious she looks up to you, given to all the trouble she went to make you a Dawning present. I think she’ll be more than willing to forgive you.” Ikora assured. She then began to leave, but stopped midway.

“Oh, and by the way, she’s nonverbal. She speaks by using American Sign Language. And her Ghost is named Bahamut.” She added, before leaving. Shaxx placed his hands on his hips, his confidence now restored. 

* * *

Blessedly, it had only taken Fang three days to once again resume her habit of silently watching Crucible matches and drawing them. Once the current match (yet again, a Control one-she seemed to like watching those the most) was ended, Shaxx looked around, and found her observing from a hidden perch, above the arena, sitting cross-legged. Of course, she was sketching away, clearly quite focused. Her Ghost (Bahamut, if he remembered correctly-not like he'd so easily forget such a  _ unique  _ name for a Ghost) was on lookout. 

_ "Fang, the big guy is coming this way!"  _ She told her Guardian, which made the Exo jerk a bit, rocketing up, and nearly losing her balance. Instinctively, she created a pillar of sorts to brace herself against similar to how she had created the platforms she had used to run from Ikora all those months ago. Then, once she was balanced, she let the pillar dissolve into pixels, and fade away.

"Impressive reflexes!" Shaxx praised. 

_ You're… impressed? But it's not a normal Guardian ability…  _ She wondered.

"Who cares? It was still impressive, to be able to counter loss of balance quickly  _ and  _ effectively!" He insisted.

_ Thank you very much… but what are you doing here? Won't there be another match in a few minutes?  _ She asked.

"Actually, there isn't another match for a full hour. Zavala pulled away several of my fireteam to go on strikes for him all over the system! And besides… I wanted to apologize for scaring you three days ago by yelling." He admitted. Fang shook her head.

_ You didn't know. Couldn't have known. Hadn't seen me before then.  _

"You're good-hearted, Fang. Ikora told me that she thinks you look up to me. That you find the Crucible inspiring, somehow. Is all of that true?" 

Fang nodded.

"I must ask- _ why?"  _

The Exo seemed to pause and think for a moment, before finally gathering her answer.

_ Everyone is nice. Teams work together. Lots of fun. No real anger. No bad feelings. You help both sides. Win or lose. Anyone can win. Anyone can lose. Different games. Anyone can play. Anyone is welcome. All… all good. Makes dealing with the loudness easy. Makes me feel… good. Not useless. Not… worthless. Not a coward.  _ She managed, letting her hands fall slowly to her sides. She then slowly sat down, near the edge of her perch, curling in on herself.

"I'm honored that the Crucible could be so helpful to you, Fang. I hope it continues to be helpful. There is one thing I must disagree with you on, however." 

Fang looked up slightly, confusion written all over her faceplate. She didn't need to make a single gesture for Shaxx to get it. The Titan walked over, and sat down next to her.

"You are  _ not  _ useless. You are  _ not  _ worthless. And you are  _ far  _ from a coward. You're just simply reeling from something that, from the sounds of it, would even break  _ me.  _ And you're  _ trying your damndest,  _ Fang. A useless, worthless coward wouldn't be  _ trying  _ like you are. You're like a very old sword-it takes a lot of hard work and effort, but the payoff is sweeter than anything else imaginable. So don't sell yourself short!" He insisted, voice soft yet encouraging, placing a reassuring, firm hand on her altered shoulder. He could feel the unnatural powers within humming, not just Light, but something else. And his words seemed to get through to her-while Exos couldn't  _ actually  _ cry for any reason, that didn't mean they couldn't emulate other parts of emotional displays, and Fang's breath began to shudder, as did her body. Electric eyes were narrowed. Her mouth was slightly open. She then turned her head away, and fully broke down into very accurate approximations of sobs. Carefully, and slowly, he pulled her into his arms. 

"When you're ready, I'll be more than glad to set you up with a fireteam and get you out there yourself." He whispered. She looked to him, and he let her go just enough to be able to sign, shaking as she did.

_ Who would want to work with a broken mess like me?  _ She asked.

"Oh, there are  _ plenty  _ of Guardians who would want to work with you for one reason or another! You've seen firsthand how friendly Guardians can be towards one another, and you're no less a Guardian than any of them!" He assured. 

_ Maybe… maybe I could try? Just one?  _ She mused. 

"Sometimes, slow and steady is the best way to start. I think that once you get a taste of the glory of the battlefield again,  _ especially  _ victory, you'll feel  _ amazing. _ " 

_ Maybe…  _

"If you're going to go in there, you'll need equipment. I have some lying around-"

She shook her head.

_ I… have some. Armor and weapons.  _

"Oh? Let me see!" 

Shaxx released her fully, and she stood up. Bahamut took the cue, and floated up to Fang's standing height. In the blink of an eye, the casual, azure blue long-sleeved shirt with a five-pointed silver star on the front vanished, as did the black pants and shoes. The elaborate armor that Omega had forced upon her was soon applied in its place, and the elaborate pseudo-rifle the war machine had also forced upon her manifested into her hands. Shaxx blinked underneath his helmet, before leaning back.

"That's  _ quite  _ the weapon you've got there! Where'd you get it from?" He asked casually. Fang placed the elaborate firearm on her back, in order to free up her hands.

_...Omega forced it on me. Forced the armor too. Forced… a lot. _

"...Forced it on you? The way you're talking, it sounds like the weapon is somehow  _ bound  _ to you! What is this 'Omega' you speak of?"

_ It is. Omega… strong. Omega… smart. Omega… war machine. Omega… not anything made by humans. Not Vex. Not Hive. Not Taken. Not Cabal. Not Fallen. _

"...A powerful, intelligent war machine whose origin is unknown? Capable of somehow literally  _ binding  _ weapons to Guardians? What else can it do?"

_...Don't know its limits. Seems like none, as long as it's in the Interdimensional Rift.  _

"The Interdimensional Rift? Sounds like quite a place… but now is not the time for such thoughts. Let's go back home." Shaxx suggested, standing up, and offering a hand.

Fang nodded in agreement, and took the proffered hand. 


	5. Swansong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An accident leads to a partial regression, but a silver lining is found in the form of two new friends for Fang...

To be fair, Shaxx had not been  _ entirely  _ wrong. Many fireteams  _ did  _ want Fang to be their sixth member, at first, if only to fill out that last spot and get in on the action. But the first time that, in a panic, Fang had unleashed what Cayde simply dubbed “a banshee shriek” (which Ikora remembered from the night she first met Fang-that pain-inducing shriek that severely crippled the Fallen), and all  _ hell  _ broke loose. An elaborate lie had to be crafted to keep the general populace from questioning what had happened, and while that did work on them, it didn't work so well with the other Guardians. Before long, word spread of the freakish incident, and soon enough,  _ no one  _ wanted to have Fang on their team.

Needless to say, it crushed Fang. She had worked so hard to feel comfortable in her own skin again, so to speak, and it had all just come tumbling down around her. All because of an  _ accident.  _

She didn't know what to do now. She wandered aimlessly in the Tower, avoiding looking at the wary, judgemental glares from the others. She now would refuse to wear anything that didn't completely conceal all traces of what Omega had  _ done  _ to her. 

"Sweet child, what are you doing?" 

An unfamiliar voice startled Fang. She turned around to see an elderly human woman, looking at her with concern. Fang then looked back away, and began to walk away-

"I recognize you… you were the one who had that rather unfortunate experience in the Crucible, weren't you?" She asked gently. Fang stopped, and began to shake in simulation of restrained tears-

"Here, have this. I think it will do  _ wonders  _ for you." 

A small book was pressed into Fang's hands. A worn, hardcover book, with a simple drawn picture of what looked like some form of malformed baby bird on the front. The text was somewhat faded, but it was still legible.

_ The Ugly Duckling,  _ it read. Fang looked to the older woman, who was smiling gently at her. 

"It's yours now. Keep it. It'll do far more good in your hands than just sitting in storage, collecting dust." She assured. Fang nodded, silently thanking the woman. She then left the area.

She knew exactly where to go, in a moment like this.

* * *

The thicket hadn't been disturbed since the day Ikora had come back and taken the tent with her. Evidently, neither the Fallen nor the Taken were interested in the remnants of an abandoned campsite. Bahamut transmatted what she needed to start a fire once again, and the Exo lit the flame with a small burst of energy from her modified arm. She then began to read.

* * *

_ A small group of baby birds, called ducklings, hatched on a farm. But one didn't belong, because it looked different. It was the "ugly duckling". It was outcast from the other ducklings. No one wanted to be its friend. So, it left, but still, it had no luck. It suffered wherever it went, at the hands of other creatures and the elements alike.  _

_ It found itself alone, time and time again, until it had given up hope of ever finding friends, let alone a family. One day, when a flock of beautiful birds, called swans, who were the most beautiful of all birds, arrived on the lake it was living near, in a cave, it decided enough was enough. It just wanted to die, so it threw itself at them.  _

_ But, much to its surprise, the swans didn't attack it at all. Rather, they accepted it, because, it turned out that the "ugly duckling" was a swan this whole time.  _

* * *

"... Do you… not belong either?" 

Fang startled at the sound of the thickly-Russian-accented, feminine voice, nearly dropping the book in the fire. A chunk of earth jutted up from the earth, knocking the book out of harm's way, into the air, and thankfully, only dusting it up a small bit. She turned sharply, only to see a strange sight.

A human woman, rather large in size, concealed almost entirely by an almost-black cloak. Midnight black, shoulder-length hair was thoroughly tucked back behind surprisingly-pointed ears. Patches of strange, bronze "scales" covered almost the entirety of her face, sparing only a semicircular area that arced just over near the point of her nose, leaving her nostrils and mouth intact. Her eyes looked almost like some sort of amber glass. In her hand was the salvaged book.

And besides her, what technically was a Fallen, and yet, at the same time, was so very different. Instead of the typical purples and blues, there were also earthen colors-browns and yellows. Claws that almost seemed to be made of yellow diamond instead of… whatever their claws were normally made of. And in a three-clawed hand…

_ "That's… how?! That's Solar Light!"  _ Bahamut demanded. The Fallen let out a sad sigh.

"The scaled one is Terra Draco. I am Ravana. You?" 

The voice sounded somewhat feminine, but Fang didn't know if the Fallen even  _ had  _ genders like that…

"Comrade… I do not think the Exo can speak like us. Call it… a gut feeling." Terra said. Ravana nodded.

"Is Terra right?" Ravana asked. Fang nodded. Ravana hummed. 

"You know that hand speak?" The Fallen asked. Fang looked a bit confused for a moment, before it clicked-"hand speak" was another name for "sign language". She nodded again.

"Good. My hand speak is not perfect, but it is good enough. I will translate." Ravana decided.

"That works for me. Does it work for you, new comrade?" Terra asked.

_ Fine by me.  _ Fang answered. 

"Then it is decided. Now, we return to our home." Ravana told them, before turning to leave. She stopped, and looked back towards the Exo.

"What is your name?" She asked. 

_ Fang-13, but call me Fang.  _

"And you, floating friend of Fang?"

_ "The name's Bahamut."  _ The Ghost answered. Ravana flashed a toothy grin at them.

"Good to meet you, friends. When we get to our home, we will show you our floating friends." Ravana promised, before resuming her path onwards. Terra followed behind, as did Fang, Bahamut once again fading away.

* * *

It was a long walk to an old cave, long since hollowed out to incredible size, far away from any other semblance of human civilization, sealed off from the outside world by metal plates, welded to the sides, and only movable by Terra's strange ability-somehow, she was using her own Light to bend it, instead of raw strength. Once inside, the metal was bent back into place, sealing off the only obvious entrance.

"We have lived here for a long time. Not sure how long at this point, but long enough for us to be friends. Good friends." Ravana told Fang, once inside.

"Nothing can hurt us here. Ravana and I have made sure of that." Terra added as they continued to walk, making their way to what was the largest area of the cave. It was nothing ceremonious-a pair of worn, padded armchairs, colors worn to a dull reddish shade, sat near a worn, simplistic, circular wooden table. Sat on it was a lantern that had a gentle, bluish glow to it. All sorts of miscellany, sorted in a way Fang wasn't sure of, kept on metal shelving, welded to the wall undoubtedly by Ravana's Solar abilities. Separated from the rest of the room by a half-wall of sorts was a derelict combination refrigerator and freezer, droning constantly, kept going by a jury-rigged multi-step battery. An old, decrepit, but still seemingly functioning gas stove and oven, seemingly modified to now run off of ether. A pre-Golden Age, dirty digital clock, hung on the wall of the "kitchen" near the fridge. 

Leading away from the area was a small hallway, with two light sources peeking out. More lanterns, likely also powered by ether now, Fang guessed. Ravana walked casually over to what Fang decided was worth labeling their treasure area, and pulled out another padded chair. She brought it to the table, and set it up, adjusting the other two.

"Now, there is room at the table for you too. I will make room in the bed room for you now." Ravana said, before scrounging around in the treasure area once again. Fang sat down in the new chair, looking around the room. More of the ether lanterns were hung throughout the large cave, providing constant light. Near the treasure area was an improvised library, full of all kinds of books. 

"Ravana loves to read, especially about humans. She is no less skilled with her blades, but her mind is her sharpest weapon." Terra explained as she made her way closer to Fang. She placed the book on the table.

"Everything here is also yours now, as well. You are one of us now. The ones that do not belong." She assured, before heading over towards the improvised kitchen area. And, just as she went off, Ravana returned.

"All good. Now, one final thing. We will keep our promise." She said, before a blood red-orange shelled Ghost manifested besides Ravana. 

"Meet Gana. My floating friend." She introduced.

_ "Greetings, fellow outcast… or would Lady Fang be more to your tastes?"  _ The Ghost added, voice rather gentlemanly in tone, with an accent that was quite a bit different to Terra's own.  _ British  _ was the word that came to mind. If Fang could blush as an Exo, she would have. As it was, she covered her face with one hand and put the other out, waving it to express how flustered she was. Gana chuckled, and Ravana gave him a scolding bop over the top of his frame.

_ "Ah, can a Ghost simply not have his fun? Still, if it truly bothers you so deeply, I will refer to you as simply Fang."  _ He teased.

_ "That's what she wants! She doesn't think of herself as some high-and-mighty bitch! She just wants to be able to have a family!"  _ Bahamut snapped, manifesting.

_ "My, quite a temperamental Ghost to accompany her… if nothing else, it does show you care for her, as any good Ghost should."  _ Gana mused. Bahamut beeped angrily, and moved to float closer to Gana, but Fang let out a whine of protest. Bahamut sighed heavily, and floated back over to her Guardian.

_ "Just… don't be an ass to her. She's been through hell and back. We both have."  _ Bahamut told him. 

_ "Fair enough. I think I've given my due for the moment. When next I am needed, I'll make myself known."  _ Gana agreed, before vanishing. Ravana sighed as he disappeared. 

"You always do, Gana… You always do." The Fallen mused quietly. Fang ran her fingers over the  _ Ugly Duckling  _ copy she'd been given. 

"Terra… your turn." Ravana called over.

_ "Give the boss a moment! She's kinda busy!"  _ A new voice called back, having yet another accent, all his own. Louisianian, Fang guessed. Ravana clicked.

"It is you Fang needs to meet…" She trailed. A few excited beeps, and what could easily be described as a bronze-scale-shelled Ghost sailed up into view. He made a delightful, mid-air twirl, before settling to a simple mid-air position. 

_ "The name's Bronzeheart! Feel free to call me Bronze for short, though. Guessing the Exo is Fang?"  _ He introduced. Fang nodded. 

_ "The intuition's still good! So, what's your name, fellow Ghost?"  _ Bronzeheart asked, looking over towards Bahamut. 

_ "I'm Bahamut. I assume you've heard everything else so far?"  _ She asked in turn.

_ "Loud and clear, firecracker! Don't you worry your pretty little shell-here, we'll treat you both right. You'll never have to worry 'bout bein' alone again."  _ He assured. Bahamut beeped once.

_ "Fang and I will never be alone. We have each other."  _ She insisted. 

_ "Always good to have more than one person who gives a damn about you. Four more is even better."  _ He countered. 

_ "Whatever…"  _ She trailed, settling back on Fang's shoulder. 

* * *

_ I can't sit around and wait any longer! I have to find her! We cannot let her fall back into the clutches of this Omega!  _

That was the short, harsh-toned, angry excuse Ikora had given Zavala when the Titan tried to stop her from leaving to find the runaway Fang. She hadn't even stopped to listen for his counter. Fang's safety was all she could think of.

It had been two whole  _ weeks.  _ Two whole weeks since the accident. Two whole weeks since Fang had vanished into seemingly nothing. But Ikora refused to believe that she was truly gone. And she had been stalled and waited long enough. She had a good gut feeling as to where Fang went anyways. 


	6. A New Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fang, Ravana, and Terra find a new home in the Tower, as well as two new friends.

Somewhat-aged track marks, blessedly undisturbed by any external forces. A half-burnt pile of dried animal droppings. But there were more than one set of tracks. Three (or five, depending on how one wanted to look at it), to be precise.

One had to be Fang's, for certain, and another seemed to belong to a rather imposing figure-either Awoken or human. But she had to check herself about three times on the last one… and even with Ophiuchus triple-checking behind Ikora’s  _ own  _ triple-checking, there was no mistaking it. 

The remaining set of tracks belonged to a Fallen. 

The Fallen and the imposing one’s tracks were side-by-side, coming from one way towards the small fire pit. What had to be Fang's came from the other direction. Then, a secondary set of all three, heading off in the direction the first two came from. Ikora was perplexed-what reason would the human (or Awoken, she still wasn't sure) have to even  _ want  _ to associate with a Fallen? And what would convince  _ Fang  _ that going with these two strangers would be a good idea? So many pieces were missing-

The earth suddenly shook violently beneath Ikora. Instinctively, she floated herself up, but the earth never gave way. Instead, she saw a Taken Phalanx soaring through the air, sent flying by something, and then, crash-land into a large tree trunk, instantly fading away moments after. The Warlock turned her head, following the path backwards of the unfortunate Phalanx… and couldn't believe her eyes. 

A large, human woman, easily a Titan, using her Light to manipulate the earth  _ itself  _ as she saw fit. She guided it using the movements of arguably one of  _ the  _ most  _ beautiful  _ blades the Warlock had  _ ever  _ seen, and, confirming her suspicions, a strong upward slash guided a large chunk of earth to suddenly jut up and out, sending about three Taken Psions flying, much like the Phalanx. That was already mystifying enough, but it didn't end there.

A Fallen, easily a runt amongst its kind, cutting through swathes of Taken with a blade in each hand. Barely after Ikora had noticed the Fallen did the  _ true  _ mindbending event over-the Fallen gathering  _ Solar Light  _ around herself, before it fully enveloped it, and then-

**_"FURIOUS AS A BLAZE!"_ **

With the loud, feral  _ roar  _ of a proclamation in a booming, female voice, a  _ massive  _ figure was now in place of the Fallen. Still very much in the  _ shape  _ of a Fallen, but with Solar Light now ringing violently in the blades, turning them a brilliant red-gradient to blue and increasing their size radically, and blackish-reddish  _ armor plating- _ almost somewhat valkyrie-esque in appearance-instead of typical Fallen attire. Ikora couldn't believe her eyes.

A Fallen  _ Guardian,  _ and a  _ Dawnblade Warlock  _ at that! Where had she even learned how to transform herself into this?! Where along the line had a  _ Fallen  _ become a Guardian?! And where along the line had the human Titan learned to bend the earth to her whim like that?! 

But, perhaps the most heartwarming of all-Fang, standing on a self-created platform in mid-air, throwing down self-created pillars and other blunt objects. All of them, working together, to cut down a massive swarm of Taken. It made the Warlock Vanguard smile. 

_ "Ikora, are you seeing what I'm seeing?"  _ Devrim's voice came through, making the Warlock chuckle.

"If by 'seeing what I'm seeing', you mean Fang working in tandem with a human Titan and a Fallen  _ Guardian  _ that just turned into… whatever that is meant to be, then yes, I'm seeing what you're seeing." She answered.

_ "Ah, good, so I  _ **_haven't_ ** _ gone completely mad… ah, was Fang the name of our runaway Guardian?"  _ Devrim questioned.

"Yes. I'm going to take a guess that a certain Commander told you I was coming down here?" Ikora asked in turn.

_ "Afraid so. He was  _ **_furious_ ** _ at first. Said you had higher priorities than chasing after a runaway Guardian, blah blah blah. I then promptly reminded him that she isn't just another runaway Guardian-she is a victim of scientific experimentation that has given her unique abilities that, with time and control, will become undeniable assets to us. He was still annoyed, but he ceased his ranting and raving, at the least."  _ Devrim replied.

"Not to mention that she will have key knowledge of her tormentor, should it come knocking. Knowledge that could save countless Guardians from suffering the same fate as she did." Ikora further added.

_ "Indeed, indeed… ah, the battle appears to be won. I would advise making haste to them before they retreat to… well, wherever they've been living all this time."  _ The scout said, just as the Fallen reverted back to her normal form, and Fang began descending, walking down platforms and dissolving the ones she didn't need as she descended.

"I'm on my way." 

Ikora began making her way to the scene of the battle, moving as fast as possible.

* * *

"Victory again, comrades!" Terra cheered, fistbumping the air. Ravana let out a deep-throated chuckle as she relaxed a bit.

"Such mindless drones… no will of their own! No passion! What chance did they have against us?!" She preened, puffing out her chest.

"Very impressive indeed. Each of you are quite skilled." 

Fang perked up at the sound of the familiar voice, and all three turned around. Ravana hissed and tensed, but Fang put an arm out, stopping the swordmaster. 

"You  _ know  _ this human?" She questioned. Fang nodded and hummed.

"She  _ bleeds  _ Light, Ravana. Similar to how you bleed it. But it is not Solar. It is… I think Void is what it is called?" Terra commented. Ikora raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean by  _ bleeding  _ Light?” The Vanguard asked. Terra shifted around a bit.

“....I… I do not see normally. I cannot tell you the color of your skin. I cannot tell you the color of your eyes. I cannot tell you the color of the trees nearby, nor the color of all of the buildings around us. But I  _ can  _ tell you the color of your Light. I  _ can  _ tell you how much you radiate. I can tell you where the trees and the buildings are. I can tell you are human.” She tried, not sure if it was enough. Ikora crossed her arms, and hummed in thought for a moment.

“It sounds like you ‘see’ using not only your Light, but the way Light flows through the universe. When you use your own Light, it’s like a ship’s radar-you send out subtle pulses, which will distort when any one of them hit some sort of object. The nature of the distortion-its size, shape, and overall feel-tells you about the object, and how long it takes for the pulse to return to you helps you discern how far away it is. Combine it with passive observation, and you’re no less capable of making sense of the world around you, so long as you have your Light. Does that sound about right?” She concluded, asking for confirmation.

“Yes, that is another way to put it. More… technical, I guess, but it still works.” Terra confirmed. A dark thought soon crossed Ikora’s mind… and one she could not help but ask, out of morbid curiosity. 

“What did you do when the Light was lost to us?” 

Terra looked down, and her eyes began to glisten.

“At first, I ran. I moved aimlessly, my hands constantly in front of me. I had my other senses, and as far as I can remember, they have always been superior to other humans, Light or no Light, but they could only get me so far. And Bronzeheart… Bronze was gone. I was alone. Very, very alone. I soon wore down the soles of my boots, to the point where they simply ended up tearing off. And that led me to start connecting with the ground beneath me. All parts of it.” 

The Russian-accented woman strode over to a nearby lightpole-long since rendered useless by the elements, but still standing. She placed a hand on it.

“If it came from earth, I came to understand it. How it worked. I found comfort in its firmness. And that includes metal. After all, metal is simply earth that has been refined. But, still… I was lost. Until I met Ravana.” 

A single, slightly-bronze-colored tear trailed down Terra's face.

“It was by pure chance. We were scavenging the same area. We scared each other, but I knew I could not fight her as I was. Not well, at the least. I was fully prepared to die my final death that day.” Terra admitted, before turning away from the lightpole. 

“But when she realized how helpless I was, and how we were in a similar situation, I think she felt some sort of pity. She put away her blades, and instead offered her hands. She became my eyes, and I told her all sorts of stories that I had heard and traced from those special books over the years-at least, the years I remembered. She loved them. She even took her name from one of those stories.” 

Ravana chuckled bitterly.

“The tale was of an outcast runt girl who was neglected, until it turned out she was the reincarnation of a powerful war deity-a four-armed swordmaster, who wielded a blade in each claw, named Ravana. Needless to say, I could understand the feeling very well, having been a runt amongst the others of my  _ species- _ ” She seethed the word- “and thus, left to the wolves, as you humans say. A select few humans showed me mercy, however, and Terra was one of them. That is why I have no problems cutting down the others. My form may be closer to theirs, but my soul and heart does not belong with them. It never has, and it never will.” She explained. 

"I can imagine you were both very relieved when your Light returned to both of you. I know I was. But I think we're all getting a little ahead of ourselves here. My name is Ikora Rey. I am a member of the Vanguard. I came here originally to bring Fang back to the Tower, but it wouldn't be right for me to rip her away from you two. So, I am extending an invitation to both of you to come with us. Become true, proper Guardians. Be able to make even  _ more  _ of a difference in the universe. Leave an even  _ greater  _ mark. What do you both say?" 

Ravana couldn't believe it, and stared at the dark-skinned woman before her, mouth agape.

"You… you truly mean both of us?" She asked in disbelief. 

"Yes, I do." Ikora confirmed.

"Even considering what they will all see me as?" 

"I won't lie-at first, you'll likely get some looks. Maybe even a few hot-blooded recruits leveling rifles at you. But once you've established yourself and made your mark, they'll see you as Ravana, not a Fallen that just so happened to somehow end up a Guardian. I'm sure of it." 

Ravana shrugged, throwing all four of her hands up. 

"Why not? It's not as if I can't handle myself against a few newborns if they decide to try something." She decided.

"I will never abandon my friends. I will go as well." Terra agreed. Ikora smiled.

"Good to hear. My ship is waiting in orbit. Shall we?" She suggested.

"Lead the way, Ikora Rey." Ravana said, allowing her blades to be transmatted away by Gana.

* * *

Upon arrival, Terra raised her arm to shield her eyes.

"Such large amounts of Light… I would have never  _ dreamed  _ of seeing such a beautiful sight…” She said quietly, eventually managing to lower her arm. 

"So, this is the fabled Tower… a testament to humanity's unrelenting determination if I've ever seen one." Ravana mused, folding her four arms in on herself-

“Huh? A Fallen… in the Tower?” 

Ravana didn't know what to make of the tone of the human male's voice. It was not hostile, like she was expecting… no, it was more of… confusion? Like he grasped the concept of not all Fallen being his enemy, but he did not grasp the concept of a Fallen in the Tower… 

Well, pure confusion was better than outright hostility, she supposed. 

He clearly belonged here. A white, scratched-up chestpiece, and equally scarred armor on his right shoulder and forearm. A strange skull on his left shoulder, and what looked like parts of a creature's spine on his left forearm. All over a black, long-sleeved shirt. Some white, flexible plating on his sides, and a black belt around his waist. Off-grey pants, with a pouch on the outer side of either thigh. Black, armored boots, with some gold around the front shins, and decorate white plating on the top. Gloves that matched his pants in coloration covered his hands. 

The term for his skin shade, if Ravana remembered correctly, was  _ tanned.  _ Hazel eyes were neutral-not easy to read, but not glassy like Terra's. Very short, dark brown hair, and scars marred his face. He clearly had known the battlefield for years. Likely a veteran Guardian, Ravana concluded.

"My name is Ravana, and I am only Fallen in body. I never have, and never  _ will  _ align myself with  _ them. _ " She seethed the last word. The human male blinked. 

_ Damn, she's angry…  _ He dared not say out loud.

"Ravana, he didn't mean anything bad by it. Drake is no stranger to the idea of friendly Fallen. He, however,  _ is  _ a stranger to the idea of a Fallen  _ Guardian, _ like most of us are." Ikora explained. Drake blinked.

_ "Hold up,  _ **_what_ ** _ did you just say?!"  _

A metallic grey-shelled Ghost suddenly appeared, with a matching circular shape floating around it. Its voice was masculine, but had no remarkable regional accent. 

_ "You heard the fair lady correctly, fellow Ghost. May we have the pleasure of your name?"  _ Gana countered, manifesting on Ravana's shoulder. 

_ "Uhh… it's… Deadshot. Yeah, I'm Deadshot. And you are…?"  _ He answered. Gana chuckled.

_ "My name is Gana. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir Deadshot."  _ He introduced, smiling. Deadshot sputtered a bit.

_ “Uhh… you don’t have to call me ‘sir’... just Deadshot’s fine!”  _ He said. Gana chuckled, and Ravana sighed heavily, burying her face in her hands.

“At this point, I think he does that on  _ purpose… _ ” She muttered. 

"Be that as it may, Drake's being here is actually quite opportune." Ikora said calmly.

"Oh yeah? Why's that?" He asked.

"While she will likely continue to reside with me, as a member of the Vanguard, I have other duties that could take me away from Fang for extended periods of time. And while they are all certainly capable on the battlefield, due to years of isolation from the rest of human society-"

"We are… not the best at fitting in. At all." Terra finished. Ravana hissed.

"And please  _ do  _ enlighten me on how I, as technically a  _ Fallen,  _ was meant to fit in to the rest of human society alone? It's not as if I could've just casually made my way here, somehow, and been welcomed as if I was an actual human!" She harshly pointed out, crossing her arms yet again. Fang let out a pained whimper, clutching at her modified arm, and Ravana let out an exasperated sigh.

"...You're asking me to play  _ babysitter? _ I already have enough problems with Kayden-"

Before Drake could even finish, he was pelted with a particularly  _ large  _ snowball, which was then followed promptly by maniacal laughter. Drake groaned as he wiped the snow from his face.

_ "Speak of the devil and he shall appear…"  _ Deadshot trailed. 

Fang and Ravana both turned and looked up to see yet another human male-this one rather painfully obviously a Titan-grinning like a child. Snow dusted his hands. 

"Everyone, meet Kayden. My friend who is the definition of a Titan-headstrong, reckless, and has a penchant for endless destruction." Drake introduced. 

"I do what I do, and I'm damn good at it!" Kayden countered, still grinning like a child.

"He's also not that attentive when it comes to the details of his surroundings. He locks in on his target, and to hell with everything else until he's done with it." Drake commented. 

"Hey! I'm not stupid!" Kayden insisted. 

"I said you were  _ inattentive,  _ not  _ stupid. _ There's a difference, and I'm right about the former, because you clearly have not noticed  _ the fucking Fallen Guardian  _ right here!" Drake pointed out, gesturing at Ravana. Kayden turned, and stared blankly, mouth slightly open.

"How… what… I don't get it…" He barely managed. Ravana shrugged.

"I do not entirely understand myself, human, but here I am." She admitted. Kayden threw his hands up.

"Eh, like it even matters. Drake's told me about friendly Fallen, so I can believe you're on our side." He said nonchalantly, before launching himself over the railing...

And then promptly proceeding to faceplant into the platform that Fang and the rest of them were standing on. It trembled ever-so-slightly, and a Kayden-shaped hole was now set in the platform. 

_ “KAYDEN!”  _ Zavala roared as Kayden finally managed to pull himself out of the platform. A brief flash, and the scratches on his face, as well as his injured mouth, all healed fully. When he finished pulling himself out, he looked up to see Zavala burning with an aura of barely-contained fury. 

_ "I'd run if I were you!"  _ What was obviously Kayden's Ghost advised, manifesting beside him. The voice was somewhat masculine, with a noticeable Australian accent, and also clearly annoyed. Kayden grimaced, got up, and began to run as fast as he possibly could towards the hangar. Ravana’s gaze followed the sprinting Titan, before turning back to Drake.

“Is this-”

“A common occurrence? Yes, yes it is.” Drake finished. 

_ "Well, when you're as stubbornly resilient as he is, it's all too easy to end up being so headstrong and reckless. I feel bad for Shen, having to constantly resurrect him…"  _ Deadshot added. 

"He means well, and he's still a good friend to have. I think he'll get along well with you all." Ikora commented. Drake sighed heavily, crossing his arms.

"I guess it couldn't hurt to have some more members in the fireteam… including Kayden and myself, that makes five. One shy of a full Crucible fireteam." He relented. 

_ "It'll be a bit tricky, convincing people to accept Ravana at first… unless…"  _ Deadshot trailed. 

"Unless what?" Drake asked.

_ "We could use the mystery of it all! Play up the idea of a mysterious Fallen Guardian! Who is she? Where did she come from? How did she become a Guardian? The crowds will go  _ **_wild!_ ** _ "  _ Deadshot proposed.

"Not a bad idea, especially when they see what I can do…" Ravana agreed, grinning as best a Fallen could. Fang let out a delighted hum, and Terra let out a soft smile.

"Our new home… it shines with warmth and Light." She mused quietly.


	7. Dragonborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeking to enhance their bonds, Drake decides that his new fireteam should engage in some Crucible matches together. However, they're one shy, so he seeks for someone to fill the last slot. He finds someone, but she doesn't seem keen on cooperating with them...

It hadn't taken long since their formation for Drake to decide that a good few Crucible matches would help them bond and understand one another. So, the hunt was on for a sixth member to fill the empty slot.

And, somehow, she was just as…  _ different  _ as the rest of the female members of the team. 

An elaborate, metallic gold and metallic black overcoat, with a dark gold section over the stomach that looked almost like draconic scales. Armored gauntlets and armored boots, above the knee and elbow, respectively, mostly metallic black, with some silver decorations, and, on the gauntlets, just behind the elbow, were sharp blades, clearly capable of cutting. Pants the same shade of metallic gold as the overcoat, with dark gold scale-patterning barely visible above where they went into the boots. 

Interestingly enough, she wore a dark blue-grey hood, with a black emblem attached to the forehead area, and a stylized, metallic-looking dark silver mask that completely concealed her face. The hints of skin a slight shade darker than her hood hinted at the idea that she was an Awoken, but little else could be seen under her elaborate armor. She also carried not one, not two, but  _ three  _ similar-looking katanas-two attached to her left waist, and the third attached to her right waist, held up by means not all that obvious. 

Drake was honestly starting to wonder if he was somehow the only  _ normal  _ member of the Fireteam, with only incredible feats credited to him-none of these otherworldly abilities that the ladies of the fireteam all seemed to possess. But that didn’t matter at this point. He’d sought out this woman to fill the final slot, and here she was…

Looking like she couldn’t give half a fuck about who he was. She barely looked up to acknowledge him. 

“I’m assuming you’re this ‘Drake’ character? Seeking a sixth member so you can get into the Crucible finally?” She questioned.

“You’re correct on both accounts. Anya Ryu, correct? It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He confirmed, offering a hand. She scoffed, keeping her arms folded. 

“...Whatever. Let’s just go. I’ve waited long enough to finally be able to show the world what I can  _ do. _ ” She told him, pushing herself off the wall she was leaning against and walking past him. Drake raised an eyebrow as she headed out.

_ “...What a bitch…”  _ Deadshot muttered.

“...You said it.” Drake agreed, before Deadshot once again vanished. 

* * *

The first time Anya refused to cooperate with the rest of the team was during a Supremacy match. 

They had barely landed on Earth, in Vostok, before Anya went tearing off in the direction of the opposing team, drawing one of her left katanas, and tossing it into the air, before drawing the right katana into her left hand, and the remaining left katana into her right hand. The flying katana came to rest just a bit above Anya’s head, levitating under a power unseen. Drake couldn’t even voice a protest before she was gone.

With a feral roar, she slashed diagonally across one opponent’s body with the katana in her right hand, before spinning around, and cutting in the opposite diagonal direction. The unfortunate soul screamed as he was cut down, and the moment Anya felt a bullet graze her left shoulder, she turned her head, and directed the levitating katana to impale the would-be sniper square in his head, earning yet another scream as he fell. 

Soon enough, however, Anya would scream, as a hail of bullets pierced her backside before she could blink. She fell, but was unfazed when she was resurrected. She ignored the crests as she went hunting for her killer, leaving a confused Kayden to grab them.

“What’s her  _ deal? _ ” He wondered, checking the score. It was a tie.

* * *

The second time Anya refused to cooperate was during a Control match. 

The tune was all too similar. Once again, they had barely landed, this time on Nessus, in the Endless Veil, and, bringing her blades to bear in that strange style from before, she ignored the zones in favor of direct combat. 

_ “Anya, what the hell are you doing?!”  _ Drake demanded over communications.

“You don’t need my help to change the color of a damn flag!” She snapped back. 

_ “This is Control, damnit! The goal is to take the zones, not kill the other team, Anya-”  _

“Cut the damn feed! I don’t have time for his complaining!” 

The harsh order was obeyed, but the words infuriated Drake. 

_ Who the hell does she think she is?!  _ He thought angrily, as he checked the score. Yet again, it was a tie.

* * *

The third time she refused to listen was the last. A Mayhem match in Bannerfall. And it had started off the same way as the others. Barely landing, and tearing off to fight. This time, however, Drake grabbed her by her shoulder before she could get far.

"What do you want?!" She demanded.

"We're a  _ fireteam,  _ Anya, and you're not acting like it! Who do you think you are?!" Drake demanded in turn.

"Someone you don't have a prayer of understanding! Remove your hand from my shoulder, or I'll remove your  _ arm!"  _ She threatened, turning her telekinetically controlled katana in Drake's direction. Drake, in turn, began to take aim-

**_"I HAVE SEEN ENOUGH!"_ **

Shaxx's voice thundered over the communications of both teams. Everything froze-his voice burned with boundless, true  _ rage.  _

**_"THIS ENDS HERE AND NOW, ANYA RYU!"_ **

The opposing team was quick to transmat away, as was Drake, Kayden, Ravana, Terra, and Fang. Before Anya could react, Shaxx was  _ there.  _ Mere  _ inches  _ from her face, fury palpable. And, in that moment, Anya felt  _ fear.  _ But her pride overruled it, and she instead opted to leap backwards, taking up her favored stance as she landed.

Before she could charge to him, he charged to her, Arc Light singing over his body. He hit her  _ hard,  _ enough to knock the breath out of her lungs, and break her focus enough to cause the telekinetically controlled katana to fall to the ground, clanging as it landed. She went flying, but once she regained her breath and focus, she reoriented herself so that she could push off the wall and launch herself at him, brandishing her two remaining katanas.

Which was exactly what he expected and wanted. The moment she was close enough, he grabbed both of her wrists in his iron grip, and clamped down. She cried out, being forced to drop the remaining two katanas to the ground due to the pain. Holding her up by her arms, face-to-helmet, Anya now  _ truly  _ knew  _ fear. _

"Let this be a  _ lesson  _ to you, Anya Ryu." He seethed.

"You don't understand-I can't display weakness, or else Lord Shinryu-!" 

He didn't let her finish. He slammed his head full-force into hers, easily knocking her out cold. Her mask shattered upon impact, the hood falling to the ground. Patches of dark green-gray scales were plastered to her forehead and sides of her face. Almost like a mockery of a crown, made of horns the same color as the scales, framed her dark crimson red hair, though said hair faded to a purplish-pinkish color at the ends.

_ "Anya!"  _ Her Ghost cried, voice feminine and Japanese in accent, floating to her side as Shaxx gently lowered her to the ground. Then, he scooped her up into his arms…

A strange, faint shimmer on her face caught his attention. He brushed it with his finger, blinking when it moved like a solid object. Carefully, he maneuvered it into his hand.

"A… crystal tear? Her tears crystallize? Why?" He wondered softly.

_ "Ikora might have an idea… maybe it has to do with this Lord Shinryu Anya mentioned?"  _ His Ghost proposed.

"Exactly what I was thinking. You… do you have a name?" Shaxx asked of Anya's Ghost. The jade-shelled Ghost sighed dejectedly, and came to rest in the crook of Anya's neck.

_ "She called me Habakiri in the early days… but she hasn't called me that in a while."  _ She answered.

"Maybe that will change after she wakes up. Can you get Anya's katanas for her?" He requested. Habakiri floated up with a chirp.

_ "Leave it to me!"  _ She exclaimed, flying over to transmat her Guardian's favored weapons.

* * *

"That was quite a beatdown you gave Anya, Shaxx." 

The Crucible Master had arrived in Ikora's area, having placed the aforementioned Guardian in the med bay to recover. He sighed heavily as he finished approaching the Warlock.

"She was going to turn on her own  _ fireteam.  _ I couldn't sit back and let that happen. She needed to be  _ disciplined. _ " He pointed out. 

"Well, I doubt she'll forget the beatdown itself, but I don't know if she'll entirely understand what you were trying to teach her. If nothing else, you've more than likely  _ thoroughly  _ wounded her pride, and that just might be lesson enough." Ikora countered.

"If I need to, I will explain it to her. She'll be more likely to listen now, I would imagine. But her discipline is not why I'm here." He said, before unveiling the crystal tear in his hand. It shimmered with jade green light.

"What is  _ that?  _ It's alive with a power I've never felt before…" Ikora asked.

"It came from Anya. A literal crystal tear. She shed a tear, and it crystallized right before my eyes. It hasn't faded in power since I got it." Shaxx answered.

"A  _ crystal tear?  _ Surely, you're kidding…" Ikora asked incredulously. 

"I wish I was. She also mentioned something about a 'Lord Shinryu' moments before I knocked her out-"

"Wait a moment… Shinryu… where have I heard that name before…?" 

_ "The fabled draconic Creator God? Supposedly forged the whole universe in his claws, before sacrificing himself to destroy the malevolent entity known as Apophis?"  _ Ophiuchus interjected. 

"Thank you for reminding me. But why would Anya know that name? Shinryu was just supposed to be a myth!" Ikora wondered.

"I have no idea, but maybe when she wakes up, you can ask her." Shaxx admitted. 

"Let me have that crystal tear of hers. I'll see what I can't dig up on Shinryu while she's resting." 

Shaxx handed over the tear without question.

"I'll talk to her first, and make sure she understands why I did what I did." 

"The more time I can devote to researching this mystery, the better. Thank you."

"No need."

The Titan turned and left. Ikora brought the tear closer to her face.

"What would Osiris think of all of this, I wonder…" She muttered softly, before walking away towards her vast collection of books. books. She pulled a particularly large and old one from the shelves, with a stylized draconic figure, clutching an abstract drawing of a star in its claws. She opened the book, and began to read the faded text within.

* * *

The night air was crisp as Anya sat, curled in on herself, all three katanas resting beside her, to her left. She looked over the City from a high, isolated perch in the Tower, away from the rest of its inhabitants. Away from  _ him.  _ Away from the  _ embarrassment.  _

"You certainly made yourself difficult to find. You Hunters can really do anything, if you set your mind to it."

...Or so she thought. 

"Except win against the Master of the Crucible, evidently." She muttered. 

"Most people would struggle against me, Anya. That's not something unique to you, or even Hunters in general. And showing you how strong I am was not the reason I fought you." Shaxx countered.

"...You were angry with me for some reason. You wanted to teach me something." She tried, voice soft.

"Indeed. Do you know what I was trying to teach you?" He asked. She hissed beneath the new mask she had put on after she had awoken. 

"Not completely sure, and not like the vague idea I have  _ applies.  _ With all due respect, I'm  _ not _ just another Guardian-"

"You're Shinryu's latest Herald. The fourteenth one in all of known history." 

Both Anya and Shaxx turned slightly, seeing none other than Ikora standing there. Anya sighed dejectedly. 

"Why does it  _ not  _ surprise me that the  _ Warlock Vanguard  _ somehow knows about Lord Shinryu?" She asked sarcastically. 

"To be fair, there isn't a lot on him-at least, not a lot available to readily access in the current time. I'm sure a lot was lost in the Collapse, but that's besides the point. I was able to understand enough to comprehend why you acted the way you did." Ikora admitted. Anya clenched her fists.

"Like  _ hell  _ you could even  _ begin  _ to understand! I'm meant to be the messenger and voice of a  _ literal god!  _ I can't  _ afford  _ to be weak, or have others tie me down! The Heralds of Shinryu are meant to be  _ strong! Unyielding! Almighty!  _ Nowhere in there is there room for fretting about others-"

"All of the Heralds had friends! Even with His power, they were still  _ people,  _ Anya! You're setting an impossible bar for yourself!" Ikora cut off, scolding Anya.

"If I understand this correctly, yours is an immense burden, but it's not one you have to bear alone. Let your fireteam help you!" Shaxx further insisted. Anya leaned her head down, drawing in even further into herself.

"After ignoring them twice and  _ threatening their leader?  _ Like  _ hell  _ they want me anymore!" She mumbled.

"Considering that the rest of the team consists of a mute Exo who has some…  _ unique  _ abilities, a blind Titan who can bend earth and all related things with her Light, a short-tempered  _ Fallen  _ swordswoman _ ,  _ someone who has slain Hive Gods again and again, and a lovable but utterly  _ foolish  _ Titan that helped him, I wouldn't be so sure about that." Ikora countered. Anya shook her head.

“Where would I even  _ begin?  _ It’s not as if I can just waltz on up to them, say I’m sorry, and have everything be all sunshine and rainbows!” She questioned, waving her hand as she spoke. 

“A simple spoken apology won’t be enough, in all likelihood. You’ll have to prove that you’re actually sorry with your actions. But it’s a starting place, and everything has to have a start, good or bad.” Shaxx answered. Anya let out a sigh, and looked to her Ghost.

“What do you think, Habakiri?” 

The jade-shelled Ghost sputtered and jerked into the air, utterly taken aback at the question. 

_ “Y-You… You… You called me Habakiri again! You called me Habakiri again!”  _ She cried, this time in utter  _ joy.  _ She darted to Anya’s face, and nuzzled up to it. Anya let out a genuine laugh. 

“Yeah… I.. I should apologize to you too. I’ve been treating you horribly… I was so caught up in my own fears…” She admitted. 

_ “I knew that, Anya, and I knew that trying to talk you out of it alone wouldn’t work! I didn’t mind it, because I always knew you’d come back, and here you are!”  _ Habakiri assured. 

“Well, I think that’s enough for one night. I’m heading to my room-I’m sure Fang’s worried sick.” Ikora said, turning to leave.

“There’s no more matches for the rest of the night. I’m heading to my room as well. See you soon, Anya.” Shaxx added, also turning to leave. Anya smiled beneath her mask. 

“Let’s see if we can’t find a place to call it good for the night, eh, Habakiri?” 

_ “Agreed! Guardians need their sleep, especially a Guardian that’s also the Herald of Shinryu!”  _

Anya chuckled, grabbed her katanas, and stood up. She returned them to their proper places at her sides, and left her perch, Habakiri following close behind her.


	8. Repentance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya begins her efforts to make amends with the rest of the fireteam.

Anya swallowed nervously as she approached the fireteam she'd almost betrayed. She had thought over and over again, rehearsed the lines over and over again with Habakiri, and now, she might as well have done none of that, with how her heart was racing-

"She is here." 

Anya snapped to attention at the sound of Terra's thick, accented voice. 

"Who is here?" Kayden asked, confused.

"The stubborn one. Anya, I believe her name was? She is over there." Terra answered, pointing right at Anya. The rest of the fireteam soon followed suit, and suddenly, Anya felt very small, like she  _ wasn't  _ the Herald of a literal creator god-

_ "She has a lot of nerve, coming back the day after she’d been a bitch to us for THREE DAYS STRAIGHT!”  _ Bahamut seethed, before Fang shook her head.

_ I’m sure she had her reasons… let’s at least hear her out, okay?  _ She pleaded. 

_ “Fiiiine… We’ll give her a chance to explain herself… I guess…”  _ Bahamut grumbled, relenting. It felt like an eternity before Anya finally worked up the proper courage to step out into the light. 

"...I will not ask for your forgiveness, as that would be arrogant and selfish of me. Instead, I will say this-I let the fact that I was made into the Fourteenth Herald of Shinryu not long after I was reborn as a Guardian get to my head. I felt that I could not display any sort of weakness, and I felt that cooperating with a fireteam would create a multitude of those weaknesses. I only went to join a team to be able to prove myself in the Crucible… prove myself to Him. To Lord Shinryu.” She admitted.

“To prove  _ what  _ to Him? That you were worthy of being His Herald… whatever that means?” Drake questioned. 

_ “And who’s this Shinryu anyways, while we’re on the subject?”  _ Deadshot further questioned. Anya sighed, and opened her palm, as if Habakiri was resting on it. Said Ghost, however, was instead floating by the opposite side of her Guardian.

“To be the Herald of Shinryu means to be the one that conveys His will and speaks on His behalf. I, at least in theory, wield powers beyond even the strongest of Guardians, for Lord Shinryu, at least before He was forced to give much of Himself to stop Apophis and imprison His polar opposite in the Menagerie of Shade, is one of the strongest beings in all of existence. He created the universe with His claws and will, and watched over it, until He was forced to sacrifice much of Himself to stop Apophis.” Anya answered. 

_ “A creator god? Damn, He must be in pretty bad shape if He can’t snap His claws and solve all the problems in the universe…”  _ Bronzeheart mused.

“Apophis was His opposite, but also His equal. Just as Light and Darkness exist eternally, so do they. But that does not mean that the battle wasn't taxing, nor does it mean that He can recover in the blink of an eye. Even if He could, He must devote so much of Himself to keeping His opposite in check." 

"So, to keep an eye on the rest of the universe, he picks someone to lend Him a hand. And that someone, as of late, is  _ you. _ " Terra concluded.

"That's the simplest explanation." Anya confirmed.

"What powers are you supposed to have as His Herald?" Ravana asked.

"...Even I do not know the full extent of them. I know so far that I have telekinesis, visions into the past and possible futures, and some degree of Celestial Magic. In other words, a shred of His powers. But I do not know the full extent of what I am granted. I don’t know if I’ll  _ ever  _ know what comes from Him, and what comes from the Light. It can be… difficult to discern.” She answered, confessing the truth. Fang walked calmly over to the Herald, and pulled her into a hug, confusing her.

“Wha… Why are you forgiving me so readily?! I forsook you and your friends!” Anya demanded.

_ “Because she fucking gets it!”  _ Bahamut interjected, floating down in front of the confused Awoken’s face. 

_ “She knows damn well what it’s like to be subjected to the whims of some all-powerful being on the level of a god, and not know what to do with the powers it forces upon you! She knows what it’s like to be afraid of what others will think of you because of those abilities! She knows how it feels to have incredible power, and yet be entirely powerless at the same time! Sure, what happened to her at the hands of Omega is different than what happened to you at the hands of this Shinryu, and how she dealt with it was totally different from how you dealt with it, but there’s enough similarities for her to be able to understand and relate to you! And, if nothing else, Fang’s just a really kind person in general!”  _ The Ghost further added. Beneath the mask, Anya began to choke up, and a single tear trailed down her cheek. When it fell off her face, it crystallized, coming to land on the ground, and then exploding into a small burst of jade green fire. 

“I… since when did my tears do  _ that? _ ” She wondered softly. 

“Huh, so we can add ‘tears that crystallize and explode into green fire’ to the list of weird-sounding shit you can do…. I  _ never  _ imagined I’d say something like that….” Drake mused. 

"You said it… anyways, it's nice to know the reason… and I'm not sure how I feel, to be honest. So I'm gonna say let's give Anya a second chance, and go from there." Kayden said. 

"She is genuinely sorry-I can tell by her heartbeat and the way her Light flows through her. So I agree with our destructive friend in this situation. Give her a second chance." Terra agreed. Ravana shrugged. 

"If she's truly sorry, then that means she can change. And having a good, strong sixth member of the team that's  _ actually a team player  _ is  _ never  _ a bad thing." She reasoned. Drake sighed.

"Well, majority vote says you're back on the team. Don't blow your second chance, Anya." He relented. 

"I won't." 

* * *

"Ah, I assume Anya came and apologized to you and your team?" 

Drake looked up from the monitor he had been working with to see the familiar helmet of the Crucible Master towering above him. He nodded, unfazed, before returning to the monitor.

"Yeah, she did. Explained herself too. Can't imagine what it's like to be in her situation, and it sure as hell explains her actions. We let her back in, but really, only Fang and Bahamut have actually  _ forgiven  _ her." Drake confirmed.

"As it should be. She isn't a bad person, but she was losing her way. I'm glad you brought her into the Crucible when you did." Shaxx admitted.

"Yeah. Hopefully she'll actually have changed for the better. She  _ is  _ good with those katanas of hers." Drake said. 

"Indeed. I'll be watching closely." 

Shaxx turned and left, leaving Drake to his devices. With a few taps, the veteran finished registering his team for Control, and left the room as well. 

* * *

It was about four days since registering before the time came for the match to actually  _ happen.  _ Bannerfall, this time. The European Dead Zone, former home of Terra, Ravana, and Fang. 

The team transmatted down into the derelict city. Drake pulled The Last Word from its holster, Kayden pulled Sweet Business from his back, and Bahamut transmatted Fang's favored rifle into her hands. Gana transmatted all four of Ravana's newly-obtained Zephyr blades, one at a time, and she grabbed one in each hand as they appeared. Terra put her right arm out in front of her, hand open. Bronzeheart transmatted her newly-obtained Crownsplitter into her hand, and the Titan took a firm hold of the elegant blade, whose true looks she would never be able to appreciate. And, of course, Anya drew one of her left katanas, tossed it skywards, before drawing her right katana into her left hand, and the remaining left katana into her right hand. The flying katana came to rest once more above her head, floating in a free yet controlled manner. 

"Alright, let's stay in teams of at least two. Gotta watch each other's backs. Now, let's go to take those zones!" Drake encouraged. 

"Come, comrade! As we always have!" Terra exclaimed, and Ravana grinned.

"Like you even needed to ask! Fang, are you coming?" She agreed, looking to the Exo in question. Said Exo nodded in agreement, and the trio tore off, Fang taking to the skies via her platform generation ability. 

"Guess that means you're stuck with us, Anya." Kayden said.

"Well, I would certainly  _ hope  _ that the ones rumored to have  _ slain  _ Hive Gods would be at the very least  _ competent  _ in the Crucible. But the zones aren't going to take themselves!" Anya teased.

"Damn right!" Kayden agreed, before charging in. Drake and Anya looked at each other for a brief moment, before sighing, shrugging, and following behind the eager Titan. 

"Got you now, you four-armed freak!"

Both Fang and Terra had been overwhelmed rather swiftly by the whole of the opposing fireteam, and now, Ravana was completely separated from the rest of the fireteam, on the opposite side of the map. She was hissing, snarling, and she would  _ not  _ go down without a fight-

"What the fuck?!" 

Suddenly, a katana pierced through the head of one of the six threatening Ravana, instantly killing him and forcing his Ghost to retreat to allow for a safe respawn. Ravana grinned as she saw Anya enter her field of vision, clearly having used her telekinetically controlled katana to remotely impale the unfortunate soul. Anya then slashed outwards with both handheld katanas, cutting deeply into one leg each of two of the remaining opponents. Ravana brought her upper two blades to bear, cutting the heads off of the ones Anya had wounded. Three down, three to go.

Ravana used her remaining two blades to cut deep into the legs of two of the remaining three, hissing as she felt the sharp stings of pulse rifle fire radiate from her right side. With a whirlwind movement, Anya finished the wounded two. As the final opponent began to try to retreat, Ravana slashed downwards with one of her blades, sending forth a burst of Solar Light that incinerated him.

_ "Was that all of them?!  _ **_THAT WAS ALL OF THEM!_ ** _ Excellent teamwork, you two!"  _ Shaxx praised. Anya used her telekinesis to retrieve her third blade, and smiled softly. 

"Never underestimate the power of women,  _ especially  _ women who know how to wield blades." She commented.

_ "Oh, I know very well how powerful women can be! And your team has all three zones! This is a power play, and then some!"  _ He exclaimed. Anya hissed as she felt auto rifle fire begin to fill her back, and she turned to see the shooter. She snarled, and threw her katana, this time  _ much  _ faster and  _ much  _ harder, square into his gut. Blinding jade green light tore through the body of the victim, surging forth from the katana, until the body disintegrated. 

“Looks like they’re returning for vengeance… are you ready, Ravana?” Anya asked, recalling her third katana to her, moving until she was back-to-back with Ravana. Ravana let out a feral growl. 

“As if you even need to ask!” The Fallen answered, flashing a toothy grin. The two darted forward, blades ready to cut. 


End file.
